


Fallout

by Silver_Warrior_Wolf



Series: Earth 5243: Spider-Man [1]
Category: Spider-Man - Fandom
Genre: Anger, Contemplation, Denial, Earth 5243, F/M, Guilt, Heartbreak, Hurt Peter Parker, Kidnapped Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 07:00:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13118508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_Warrior_Wolf/pseuds/Silver_Warrior_Wolf
Summary: The unthinkable has happened, and the effect is being felt by those closest to it. How do people react when someone so young is suddenly snatched away?





	1. May Parker

It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.

May Parker bit her lip to fight back tears as she processed what the doctor had told her. The first part was fine, but it was the second part she struggled with.

She thought back on the explanation of what had happened. How the cab she and Peter had been in had crashed. How she had suffered from a concussion and had been unconscious for about two days, and the cabbie was in still a coma. How they were going to keep her in the hospital a couple of days to make sure she recovered alright. That she was fine with.

Then she asked where Peter was, and her whole world slipped away when she heard the answer. She had just wanted to know where her nephew was, what sort of injuries he had endured. She just wanted to know he was alright.

The doctors fell silent for a minute, and the head doctor tried to convince her that they'd explain in time, and that she should just relax for now, but she pressed the issue. She wanted to know what happened to her nephew, and she was not going to be able to rest until she had seen him.

Finally, the head doctor took a breath and spoke. "Mrs. Parker, I don't know how to tell you this, but your nephew was murdered."

Because of the concussion, she was not allowed anything to read or any television or computer, but she got the explanation all the same. Apparently, the crash hadn't been an accident. For some reason, someone had caused it. That horrible Spider-Man. When the crash occurred, he tore through the cab, pulled Peter out of the wreckage, and dragged him off.

The police had hoped to find where he was taken, and had spent the good part of a day combing the city to try to find him, but it was no use. They found nothing until the end of that day when they found the evidence: Peter's clothing, torn up and soaked in his blood, abandoned in a webbing bundle. On it was the note: A message to the Bugle.

As she thought of her nephew, lost to her just as her husband was, she began sobbing again. It wasn't fair. Peter shouldn't have died; he was only sixteen years old. A child for all intents and purposes. Now he had been murdered, just as his uncle had been a year before him.

May already knew this feeling well. She had it after Ben's death, too, and back then she didn't know how she was going to recover. Of course, she did so, and her wonderful nephew had been a major part in her healing from that wound. Peter would always comfort her when she got in this state. He'd try to make her laugh, and his smile would always bring her around. She'd never get to see that smile again.

May wept for several hours, but after a time, she took a breath. His loss hurt, but she wouldn't be honoring Peter's memory to give up on life. She'd have to find a way to carry on without her nephew, just as she found a way to carry on without her husband.

"Ben, Peter," May muttered quietly, "please, help me to have strength."


	2. Harry Osborn

His best friend was gone. He was all alone now.

As far back as Harry could remember, he and Peter Parker had been best friends. They had met completely by chance: Peter's father was an independent chemist who had been called in to overlook some work being done at Oscorp. Due to circumstances, the then six-year-old Peter had to be brought with him. For whatever reason (it couldn't have been escape; Peter was too much of a goody-two-shoes for that), he'd gotten lost and ran into seven-year-old Harry. The two boys, lost and bored in the office building, struck it off, and they agreed to meet up again.

As time went on, the two became close as brothers. They were very different, so no one really could understand why the much more social Harry hung around younger, more timid Peter. Harry knew, though. No matter what, he knew Peter was truly his friend. You could never really tell when you are rich, but Peter was the one of the few Harry was confident would still be his friend if there was no wealth. There was Gwen, too, who Harry only met because of his connection to Peter. The three of them were practically siblings.

So that's why it hurt when Peter died. The news had carried fast. Peter and his aunt had been in some sort of car accident, except that it wasn't an accident. Spider-Man had set it. He had swung in, kicking the car and forcing it off the road. It crashed into a shop, and it was a miracle the shop's employees and shoppers only had a few injuries. May Parker and the cabbie weren't so lucky.

Reports say Peter was still conscious when Spider-Man tore into the car and dragged him off. A few bystanders attempted to help the teen, but it was too late. Before long, they both had disappeared.

Of course, everyone else went out to look for him. Heck, Harry had even talked his father into announcing a reward for anyone who could bring Peter back alive, but it was to no avail. The next night, Peter's clothing was found in a webbing package. They were all ripped up and soaked in blood, so there was no question as to what had happened. There was a note, too. A message to the Bugle.

Ever since the package was found, Harry had not responded well. He pulled back into himself, refused any invitations, never went out. All that played in his mind was that Peter, his brother, was dead, and Spider-Man had murdered him. Spider-Man had to be punished.

His father, Norman, was of no help. He had paid for May's hospital bills and a small memorial for Peter, but when it came to his son's grief, he had no sympathy. "People die," Norman had said in a hash tone of voice. "Get over it."

"Get over it," Harry repeated to himself now that he was all alone. He was in the kitchen of the large mansion, as his father was off at work. It was on days like these that he would have invited Peter and Gwen over. They would work on homework, or play video games, or just relax. Of course, he could still invite Gwen, but it didn't seem right without all of them. He’d hang out with her later.

He glanced across the kitchen and spotted an opened bottle of scotch in alcohol cabinet. More than once had he joked about going over and trying it when no one way looking. Peter and Gwen had always protested, but they realized it was all in jest.

Harry went over and picked up the bottle. It was already half empty, probably after some meeting of his father's. Without a second thought, he opened it up and downed the remainder of the liquid.

After all, Harry's best friend wasn't there to protest any more.


	3. J. Jonah Jameson

It was his fault. A kid was now dead, and it was all his fault.

J. Jonah Jameson was not one to usually feel guilty about the way he ran his newspaper. He had always supported that while his words were harsh, they were the truth. People might not like to hear it, but he wasn't one to mince his words to please an audience.

He supposed that was why he had railed so hard against Spider-Man. From the moment he had seen the wall-crawler's masked face, he'd known he was trouble. From that moment, Jameson had worked hard to make sure everyone knew what a menace that creature was, so they wouldn't risk themselves falling into a trap.

Not everyone listened, Jameson realized. Not even his own staff. Peter Parker had been one of Spider-Man's few supporters, even though he was the photographer who kept bringing the pictures in.

Jameson shook his head and slumped back in his office chair as he thought back on Parker. He's been harsh on the kid, true, but that was only because he saw potential in him. Parker was an idealist, as many sixteen-year-olds are, and he had hoped there was good in Spider-Man. Heck, he was bold enough to even tell Jameson that to his face. That boldness would have come in handy when the kid was older. He could have been a great newsman as an adult, provided he outgrew that rosy view of the world.

Of course, Parker would never grow up now. He and his aunt had been in a wreck, caused by Spider-Man, and he was abducted. For a short while, the crew of the Bugle Media had held up hope that their cub photographer was alright, and that he'd return from the whole incident with a wild story and a wiser point of view.

Then the package was found. A webbing container with torn, bloodstained clothes in it, and a note. A message to the Bugle.

Jameson's hand trembled as he took a drought from his e-cig. Maybe if he had done something differently, this would never have happened. Maybe if he had been more moderate in his editorials on Spider-Man, they wouldn't have been noticed. Maybe if he hadn't pushed Parker to take pictures of Spider-Man and only Spider-Man, the kid wouldn't have been as visible.

There was a world of maybes that would never come to be. Peter Parker was dead, slaughtered to send a message to Bugle Media. In all this, Jameson had finally been proven right, Spider-Man was a menace and a killer. All it took was a 16-year-old's murder to prove it.

As he took another drought from the e-cig, Jameson looked over another editorial that he had written before the death. Spider-Man: Threat allowed to Swing Free. The very last photo Parker had ever sold him was plastered alongside the article. Taking one last look, the editor deleted the article.

Spider-Man had killed because of these articles. If they hadn't been there, then things might have gone on peacefully. Parker would have finished school and grown into a fine man. Now his blood was spilled, and it was partially on Jameson's hands.

Taking a deep breath, Jameson leaned back and tried to relax, but this weighed heavily on him. He wasn't about to let up on Spider-Man, but he'd find other ways to fight. The articles got Parker slaughtered.

Jameson wouldn't risk having more blood on his head.


	4. Gwen Stacy

She would never see him again. He was gone, and she'd never tell him how she felt.

Gwen Stacy slouched down in her beat-up desk at Midtown High. The teacher was droning on and on about some topic, but she couldn't concentrate on the words. All she could do was stare straight ahead with a numb expression, or else she'd look over at the desk and break down into tears.

It was the desk right next to her's; Peter's desk. She had specifically chosen to sit there because it kept her close to him.

It wasn't that she needed his help with the classes. No, she was top of the class in just about everything. She wanted to be near Peter because she liked being with him. His comebacks at Flash whenever the captain of the football team went at him. The expressions he'd make whenever the teacher would say something clearly nonsensical. She loved it all and didn't want to miss a single one.

Of course, that might happen when you grow up with someone to the point you're almost siblings. Her mother and his aunt had been close friends, so she had met him pretty much as soon as he moved in with his Aunt and Uncle. They'd been friends from the start, and were there for each other in everything. When Peter had made friends with Harry Osborn, he had then joined their group and became a trio. The three were hardly ever apart.

Still, in some ways, Peter was still closer to her than he was to Harry. They shared everything with each other; and that meant everything.

Gwen could still remember the day when he had told her he was Spider-Man. It was not long after his Uncle Ben's death, and he had been flaking out on a lot of the plans they had made. She felt guilty now to think that she blamed him for it, but she had grown frustrated with him, and after one too many blown off plans, she had full on told him off and tried to push him away.

He seemed to sense why this had happened, and he did everything he could to patch up the relationship. When nothing else worked, he told her everything. How he'd been bitten by a genetically altered spider, how he'd used his powers unwisely, and how it resulted in his Uncle's death. Now he had to work as Spider-Man to do some good in the world.

Because with great power comes great responsibility, he had said. The words still echoed in Gwen's mind.

When she discovered the truth, Gwen did everything in her power to support him. She'd made excuses for him when he had to run off. She'd covered for him when his absences were noticed. Many was the time she'd patch him up after some injury. Over time, they grew closer, and her feelings changed. They were no longer of a sisterly variety, and she had been working up the nerve to tell him she had fallen in love with him.

Then that awful day came. The day of the wreck. Someone in a Spider-Man costume came out of nowhere and forced the cab Peter and Aunt May had been in off the road. May and the cabbie were injured, and Peter himself had been snatched out of the car and dragged away. A day later, a webbing package was found with bloody clothes and single note: A message to the Bugle.

Unlike everyone else, Gwen had no idea who could have done this to him. Despite what the witnesses said, it couldn't have been Spider-Man. After all Peter was Spider-Man.

However, known or not, someone had taken Peter away, and Gwen could hardly stand it. After his memorial, she had curled up on her bed and cried. She'd cried for her friend, for her confidant, for the boy she loved. When she went back to school, she didn't cry anymore, but the pain was still present.

Gwen knew she would have to move on without him, but she didn't know how quite she could.


	5. Peter Parker

The world was cloudy. A muddled blur of color and movement.

There was only a handful of things Peter knew about the environment around him. He knew that he was tied down to some sort of metal table. He knew that his chest hurt, though he didn't know why. He knew that people had been coming in and out for what seemed to be an eternity, poking and prodding him for unknown reasons and writing down whatever it was they found out by doing so. He knew he wasn't here by choice, and he wanted to go home, but he wasn't going to be given that chance.

The closest thing he could remember in relation to how he got here was a vague memory. He and Aunt May had gone out to a restaurant when all of a sudden, the cab they were in went out of control. His spider-sense had warned him, but by that time the only thing he could do was move over in an attempt to protect his aunt. Everything was still for just one moment, and then he was injected with something that made him hazy. From there, he could somewhat remember the feeling of being pulled out of the car, but nothing else from there.

In the intervening time, he hadn't been allowed full consciousness. The closest thing was a hazy daze, in which some sort of oatmeal-like substance was fed to him. Under other circumstance, he would have fought against whoever it was that was out there, but the drugs made him more compliant to what was going on.

Which was why it was somewhat of a surprise when he was allowed to come out of the haze. He blinked a bit, wanting to raise his hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes, but he was bolted down at the wrists. After a bit of experimentation, he found the same at his ankles. He got an explanation for his chest, which was wrapped tight in bloody bandages. On top of it, it appeared whoever set this up was prepared for his spider-strength, as he couldn't pull free. He was just going to have to wait to figure out what was going on.

He didn't have to wait too long. A dark haired man in a red suit that was covered by a lab coat came in. He came over to the table and gave Peter a smile that would have seemed fatherly, if it wasn't for the situation. "Ah, I see you're awake now, Peter. Good. We have much to discuss."

"Where am I? Why am I tied down?" Peter asked.

The man nodded. "I suppose those are reasonable questions to ask. I can only tell you a few things though. My name is Dr. Miles Warren. The man who brought you here requested that I look over your examination and training. He tells me you're a very special young man."

"Who brought me here?" Peter asked, becoming annoyed that his questions weren't being answered.

Dr. Warren gave a laugh. "You aren't one for small talk, are you, Peter?" He patted Peter's shoulder. "Never you mind about that. Right now, all I need to tell you is that we are going to start our training regime very soon. You will make a highly valuable agent."

"Who said I'm doing anything for anyone?" Peter's tone was more confrontational this time. "Especially for people who drug me and tie me up."

Far from being disturbed by the statement, Dr. Warren seemed to find it amusing. "Oh, Peter, my boy," he said, giving a sigh. "What do you think the training is for? We know you are already strong enough. We will be working on making you more…compliant."

Warren then left, leaving Peter alone to question what was to become of him.


End file.
